


I'm Positive

by seaashelll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Humor, Let's see what happens lol, Love Triangles, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaashelll/pseuds/seaashelll
Summary: I'm Claire Redfield. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm pretty much just like any other typical teenager. Except for one thing: I'm pregnant. From a guy I barely know from summer camp.I don't know if I can keep it. I don't know if the father, Steve, is worth anything whatsoever. I don't know how quickly my father's going to lose his sanity, or if my best friend Rebecca will stop hooking up with random girls for five minutes to help me out. And I definitely don't know why my older brother's newest underling, Leon, looks at me the way he does.It's going to be tough, but I just might make it.Maybe.(Obviously) AU.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Leon S. Kennedy/Claire Redfield, Rebecca Chambers/Original Character(s), Steve Burnside/Claire Redfield
Kudos: 15





	I'm Positive

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I've hit some major writer's block with my other piece, so here I am. This is actually a rewrite/loose adaptation of a popular piece I wrote for a different fandom when I was sixteen/seventeen, almost ten years ago. The writing on it was mediocre at best, but it's a huge hit. I thought I'd take on the challenge of rewriting it to give it a more humorous and realistic vibe, and picked Resident Evil because, well, I love Resident Evil. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! I'm also more than happy to post the original story somewhere, upon request. 
> 
> This story is also available on FanFiction.Net
> 
> Enjoy!

You ever have one of those moments where you think, like, "wow, this only happens in the movies"?

For a split second, I actually looked for a camera. Like, maybe our bathroom's bugged, and all of this is some elaborate joke. After all, my older brother, Chris, is a special task force agent. He totally knows how to do stuff. But there's nothing in the air vents, or in the sink, or in our admittedly dirty toilet. Who would bug a bathroom? Nobody's out trying to watch my family take a shit. 

Then I take a few deep breaths. I haven't been breathing. I'm probably running low on oxygen. This isn't a prank. It's not a joke. Even if it's from Dollar General, it's a real test that I bought with my own, real money. And it's got those two little lines on it, clear as day. 

Pregnant. 

Fuck. 

A knock on the door cuts my thoughts short. I stumble back a little bit, trying not to drop the test in the toilet. Then again, maybe the toilet's the best place to put it. Can you flush pregnancy tests?

"Claire! Dinner's ready!" It's my little brother, Collin. 

My legs are feeling a little wobbly. The bitter-salty taste of pennies fills my mouth. I might puke. I might pass out. I certainly can't move right now. 

"I'll be there in a little bit," I squeak. 

I can hear his shoulder rubbing up against the door. "Are you taking a dump?"

"No." 

"I hate when you use the downstairs bathroom to take a shit."

"I'm not taking a shit!" I'm not trying to scream. I'm just frustrated as all hell. 

"Then what else are you doing in there?" He asks in an accusatory tone. 

"I'm, uh, I'm just washing my face off. I, uh, was trying a new facial." Quite possibly the stupidest excuse I've ever come up with. 

"Why didn't you try it in your own bathroom?" I can practically feel him rolling his eyes. 

"Just shut up! I'll be there in a second!" I finally shout. 

"Whatever. Dad grilled sausages. Hurry before they get cold." His footsteps moving in the opposite direction sound so heavenly. 

I splash some water on my face, not just to make the ruse believable, but because I need a major wake-up call. I need to be calm. I need to act like nothing's wrong right now. 

Man, they're really gonna make me eat phallic food just as I'm finding out I'm pregnant. 

I went to throw the, ahem, evidence in the trash, but then I remembered that I stupidly took the test in our downstairs bathroom, and that somebody would find the test, and I’d be thrust into a conversation that I’m not ready to have. 

Did I really just say “thrust”?

I fold the box up into a tiny square and shove it intomy bra. Then I impulsively shove the stick into my bra, too. I make a mental note to wash the piece of my boob that the pee-part touches. 

Collin, for whatever the hell reason, waits outside the door, folding his arms. I do the same, hoping he can’t see the weird outlines through my bra. I attempt to shove past him so I can run upstairs, but he stops me. 

“Where are you going now?”

I’m desperate. “I just need to run upstairs for something.”

“For what?”

“ _Something._ Mind your business.”

I guess he gets bored, because he rolls his eyes and turns the other direction. “Fine. But I would hurry. Cold sausages can screw up your stomach.”

Oh, haha. 

I slam my bedroom door behind me and quickly bury the box in the “unmentionable trash” pile I have hiding in my closet, alongside a bottle of wine I snuck into my room last December, a few half-smoked cigarettes (which weren’t mine), and a really dirty love note that Samson Everett wrote to me for Valentine’s day. We weren’t going out; he’s kind of a disgusting creature. I kind of held on to it for humor’s sake. 

I gotta say, a pregnancy test definitely triumphs all in terms of “unmentionable”.

Igrab my phone, sitting at a pathetic 21% on my desk. I’ve got a few texts from some people, but I ignore them, and instead draft a quick message to one of my best friends, Rebecca.

_911\. What are you doing tonight? I need to come over after dinner._

Thankfully, she replies almost instantly. 

_I’m seeing Allie tonight. Can we do it tomorrow?_

I’m not sure who “Allie” is until she sends a bunch of winky face and fire emojis. Rebecca’s got a horrible hit-it-and-quit-it Tinder attitude. 

I sigh, then type my response. My fingers feel like they’re burning. 

_Did you not read the “911” part? Can you please cancel?_

“Claire!” I hear Dad shout. “Are you coming down?”

“Just a second!” I shout back. 

_Fine, but this better be a real emergency or I’m going to smack you. Is this a good “911” or a bad “911”?_ Followed by a bunch of angry emojis. 

_Bad. Definitely bad._

“Claire!” Dad shouts again. “This isn’t a restaurant! You need to come down and eat when I say it’s dinner time!”

I hear my phone buzz but set it down, dashing down the stairs. If I stay up there too long, it’ll definitely raise some eyebrows. 

Act normal, Claire. 

My plate’s already made for me as I take my seat at the table. Dad’s already halfway through his sausage, while Collin’s (probably) on his second or third. Was I really gone that long?

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” Dad asks.

I almost go to take a bite of my food, but it looks grossly unappealing right now. “Nothing. Just, uh…” I rack my brain for excuses. “Um, girl trouble.” Hey, it’s technically not a lie. Growing up with a single dad and two brothers means that the phrase “girl trouble” is enough to send everyone recoiling in horror. They don’t have to know that, um, it’s a different kind of girl trouble. 

At least, not yet. 

Dad changes the subject, talking with his mouth full. That’s another byproduct of growing up with all guys; what the hell are table manners? 

“Are you guys excited for school to start up again? It’s a big year. I can’t believe you’re going to be a senior, Claire. Where the hell did the time go? My baby is growing up right before my eyes.” 

It would be an endearing speech if I didn’t have to hear it _literally every summer._

“What about me?” Collin seethes, kicking under the table. 

I roll my eyes. “Eighth grade isn’t that big of a deal.” 

“Yeah it is!” he retorts. “You’re graduating high school, and I’m graduating middle school.” 

The sausage looks so unappealing right now. I go to take a bite, but it overwhelms my senses. The smoky smell of the charred meat is making me want to puke. So I set it down and move my fork around my potato salad, hoping not to raise any eyebrows. 

“Graduating middle school is not the same thing as graduating high school.” 

Dad exhales, setting his hands on the table. “Look, it’s an accomplishment for both of you, okay? Stop arguing.”

Collin shoots me a smug look, with pieces of sausage sticking out through his braces. Gross. 

“While we’re on the topic, Claire, are you thinking about colleges yet? Illinois State’s applications should be opening soon.” 

Dad’s desperate for me to go there because _he_ went there, which is a stupid reason to go to pick a college, I think. But I’m not sure where I want to go, or what I want to study. I haven’t figured my life out yet. 

And now, apparently, I’ve got a baby on the way. So, you know, that complicates things. 

I get lost imagining myself walking across the stage for my high school graduation, ballooned up, waddling like a penguin as I go to grab my diploma. Would they even make a gown large enough to hide my stomach? Or, what if I gave birth before I graduated and had to miss out? Or even worse, what if I, like, go into labor during the ceremony? Then I start imagining my stomach bursting into little pieces while a parasitic baby-like creature crawls from my stomach and attacks the stadium. 

_Breathe, Claire. You need oxygen. You’re not thinking._

Dad nudges me on my shoulder. I snap out of it. “What’s up with you? Not hungry?” he asks. 

I haven’t eaten a single bite. There’s no way I _could._ I feel so sick right now. My head’s all over the place. I run my hand through my hair. “I must’ve, um, eaten too big of a snack earlier.” 

He shoots me _the look._ “Did you go and get Sonic earlier when I sent you out on those errands? I told you not to spoil your dinner.” 

No, Dad, I was out buying a pregnancy test. 

It’d probably be better at this point to just take the bait. “I’m sorry. I was hungry. Guess I over-ordered.” 

He nudges my plate, sliding it closer to me. “Fine. Just pack up the leftovers.” 

I stand, eagerly grabbing my plate and making a nosedive to the Tupperware. I’ve never been happier to get away from food before in my life. That’s kind of a fucked up sentence, isn’t it? 

“Um, Dad,” I say as I scoop the foul sausage-slash-potato-salad into the container. “Can I go to Rebecca’s for a little bit?” 

“What for?” He only asks that when he’s annoyed at me. Ugh. 

I slide the Tupperware container into the fridge. “She, uh, um, said she has big news.” 

Dad rolls his eyes. I almost see him smile. “That girl is all drama, all the time.” 

“Yeah, well, she’s my best friend.”

Dad stands, carrying his plate over to the sink. Collin’s scarfing down his fourth or fifth sausage. The appetites of teenage boys scare me. 

“Are you going to spend the night?” Dad asks as he rinses his plate. 

“Not sure. Can I text you?” 

“I need to know by ten.” 

I smile nervously. “Yeah, Dad, I know the rules.” 

Dad puts his hands on his hips. “Get it out of your system before school starts. I’m going to need to see you taking things more seriously. Spending your nights gossiping with your friends isn’t going to get you into any good schools.” 

I stick my tongue out, only briefly wondering if I can get away with sarcasm right now. “You say ‘friends’ like I have any except for Rebecca.” 

Dad pats my shoulder. “Go.” 

I practically sprint up the stairs, getting a just-in-case overnight bag together. I fish the pregnancy test out of my unmentionables bag and throw it in, too, so that I have proof. 

I can’t believe I managed to keep my cool. Well, kind of. I wonder how long I can keep it up before I totally lose it. 

-

Rebecca’s in sweatpants and a tank top when I get to her house. Her short bob reeks of grease, or maybe sweat, with jagged pieces sticking to the sides of her face. 

“I appreciate you getting dressed up for me,” I joke, though it comes out kind of weak. 

“I hope you know, from the bottom of my heart, that I will never, ever get dressed up for you.” It’s funny. She’s got this high-pitched, kind of squeaky voice. It makes everything she says more endearing than she means it to be. 

I snort. “Fuck you.” 

She grabs my arm and pulls me inside the house, then folds her arms. “What’s this big news? Allie’s low-key pissed at me, so it better be worth it.” 

I see her parents sitting in the kitchen nearby, sipping on glasses of wine and snacking on some sort of bizarre-looking concoction. The faint scent of marijuana permeates the room, only half-covered by the incense they’ve lit in the living room. Her parents crack me up. They work these high-profile business executive jobs, but are total hippies at heart. Hence why Rebecca has hookups over all the time. And we may or may not have scored some weed from her parents a few times. As long as it’s in the house, they say. 

But as lax as they can be, I’m not ready to loudly announce my, um, situation in front of them. “Can we go in your room?” I ask. 

“Why? We never hang out in my room.” 

I grit my teeth. “Because this is serious. And _private_.” 

She gestures her head toward her parents. They’re too deep into their conversation to have even noticed me come inside. “They're not listening. Come on. Quit with the suspense. How bad could it be?” 

I don’t bother to argue. Instead, I march straight into her room. She hesitates, but eventually follows me. I instinctively shut the door and hop onto her bed. Her room’s been meticulously cleaned, which is kind of inviting in a weird way. It was probably in anticipation of her little hookup. 

Rebecca hesitates, but eventually hops onto the bed next to me. “Okay, what is happening here? You’re driving me nuts. Just spill it, for Christ’s sake.” 

I open my mouth, but words won’t come out. Where do I begin? How do I spill news like this? Do I tell her the full story, or just cut straight to the chase? 

I decide on the first option. Maybe she can figure it out for herself, and the words don’t have to come out of my mouth. “Okay, so you know, I went to that one camp over the summer for a few weeks.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Duh. You’ve been going to that weird _Future Leaders of America_ camp for, like, three years now?” She clicks her tongue. “Never saw any improvement in your leadership skills.” 

I groan. “It looks good on your resume. Chris went there all through high school, and look where he is now.” 

“Fair. What does this have to do with anything? You got back, like, a month ago. I already heard all the stories.”

I start to fiddle with the buttons on my shirt. My cheeks are burning. I can’t look her in the eye right now. “So, um, you remember how I told you about that guy I met? Steve?” 

She chuckles. “Yeah, I remember. I spent like ten minutes making fun of the fact that you had a summer fling with a guy named _Steve._ ”

I don’t know what to say, so I exhale loudly. 

She wrinkles her face. “Did something weird happen? I know you said you guys were going to keep in touch, but that wasn’t, like, serious was it?” 

“No.”

“Well, then what? Did he dump you or ghost you or something? What’s the problem?” 

“Um, well…” I trail off. I can’t bring myself to say it, no matter how hard I try. So, instead, I dig through my purse and pull out the pregnancy test, tossing it onto the bed. It lands right between us. 

Rebecca’s face doesn’t move. Literally, it just stays frozen still. “Is this some sort of joke, Claire? Because it’s not funny.” 

I glare at her. “Yes, Rebecca, it’s a joke. I somehow procured a positive pregnancy test out of thin air just to freak you out.” 

She grabs the test off the bed and squints her eyes, examining it closely. 

“Do you not see the two lines? Did you suddenly go blind?” I sound more irate than I mean to. 

She drops it back onto the bed. “Holy shit. Holy _fuck._ How did this happen?!”

I shove the test back into my bag. I don’t want to look at it anymore. “When straight people have sex, it makes a baby, Rebecca.” 

“No, duh, I meant like, I thought you were still a virgin.” 

“Well now I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m not.” 

She clicks her tongue again. “So you and _Steve_ were having hot passionate summer camp sex and you never thought to told me?” 

I fall back onto her pillow. “It happened once. It was super late. We just kind of got caught up in the moment. Neither of us had done it and we didn’t really know what we were doing. It lasted, like, thirty seconds maybe?” 

She scoots herself closer to me, peering downward at me. “Did you guys not use protection?”

“We didn’t have anything with us, so he said he’d pull out.” 

Rebecca rubs her face. “Oh my god. Tell me you are not that stupid.” 

“I mean, he did, or at least I thought he did.” I set my hands on my stomach. “It felt like nothing. Like, I woke up the next morning and felt like the same person. I guess I just kind of figured that was that. Nothing _felt_ wrong.” 

Rebecca nods. 

“But then, uh, you know, my period didn’t come, and I thought, you know, _there’s no way,_ but I kept waiting for like a week and it still wouldn’t come. So I bought a test out of paranoia, except…well, maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all.” 

“Holy shit, dude.” 

“Yeah.” 

We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity. Part of me wishes she’d say something. Part of me is glad she isn’t. 

“Um,” she squeaks awkwardly. “Should I go get a hanger?” 

I kick her. “Oh my god, Rebecca, that is terrible.” 

“I’m joking! But…I mean, do we need to take care of it?” 

I sit back up, hugging my knees to my chest. “I don’t know. I don't know if I _can_ do that.” 

“Tell me you're not one of _those_ nut jobs.” 

I sigh. “No, no. It’s not like that. I just…I don’t know if I could _personally_ do that.”

She scoots even closer. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you’ve exactly got the means to take care of a baby, either.”

More silence. Neither of us can look each other in the eye. 

“What _am_ I supposed to do?” I finally whisper. 

She scrunches her face up. “Should we Google it?” 

It sounds super juvenile, but she’s already got her laptop in her lap before I even have a chance to argue. 

“Um…” she mutters. “It says you should schedule an appointment with your doctor to be sure.”

I rub my face. “My dad is the one who schedules them. How would I pull that off?”

“You’d have to tell him eventually.” 

Even more silence. 

“Do you…maybe want to take more tests? Just to be absolutely sure? Sometimes it gives a false positive, apparently.” 

It gives me the tiniest glimmer of hope. “Yeah. We can do that.” 

She slams her laptop shut and stands. “Good. Let’s be sure before we jump to any conclusions. Maybe that test was just a fluke. Didn’t you get it from the dollar store? Cheapass.” 

“Shut up, Rebecca.” 

-

Usually when we’re in the car together, we’re talking nonstop. However, we stay silent for most of the trip. She insists we go to a drugstore to get an actual test that costs more than ninety-nine cents. We argue over it, so she offers to pay for it, bless her heart. We got extra lucky, too, because there’s a self-checkout line. I couldn’t look anybody in the eye. She also buys me an XL energy drink to make me pee more, because she figured we wouldn’t be getting much sleep, anyways. 

We run straight to her room the minute we got back. When the urge to pee finally hits, I stuff the tests under my arms and waddle over to her bathroom. 

“Remember,” she says. “Start the stream first, then put the tests under it.” 

I scoff. “Thanks, Dr. Chambers.” 

I pee on all the sticks as fast as humanly possible (man, what a weird sentence) and quickly dash back into her room. We set them all on her desk and wait. 

“What am I going to do, Rebecca?” I finally mutter. The reality still isn’t fully sinking in. 

“I have absolutely no idea,” she whispers back. 

Before the time is up, we hear a knock on the door. Both of us sort of jump back. 

“Rebecca!” her mom screeches through the door. 

Rebecca rolls her eyes, opening the door just a tiny crack. “What is it, Mom? I’m a little busy right now?” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her mom waving an oblong-shaped item in Rebecca’s face. I grab my bag off the floor, and notice that my first pregnancy test is gone. 

Shit. 

Her mom’s whispering, but I can still hear her. “Honey, is there something you want to tell me?” 

Rebecca looks to me, then back. The color’s draining from her skin. “Um, I’m a lesbian? Mom?” 

For a split second, I’d hoped that she’d take the fall for me. Then again, I can understand why she wouldn’t. 

Her mom lowers her arm. “Well, you know. Sexuality and gender are fluid. You can’t make any assumptions. Honey, if you’re pregnant, you have no need to hide it from me, you can-”

“I’m not pregnant, Mom,” Rebecca insists. 

“Then where did this come from?” 

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. Electricity’s flowing through my body. I wish I could escape. Maybe if I open the window and climb out, I can make a run for it. Right? Or maybe I can hide in the closet? What do I do?

“Um.” Rebecca’s voice sounds wobbly and unsteady. “I, uh, maybe I dragged it in, by, uh, mistake? Or maybe it’s a prank. It's definitely a prank. You know, we ran into Audrey Eckhols when we went out to Walgreens, and maybe she thought it’d be funny to stick that in our bag, and then-”

Her mom pushes the door open and locks eyes with me. Well, more accurately, the three tests I’ve got sitting on the desk next to me. I’m losing all the feeling in my body. I don’t know what to say, or what to do. Like a deer in the headlights. 

Her mom’s eyes widen, and she moves the door back to where it was. “Oh,” she mutters softly. 

It hits me, like a ton of bricks, all at once. Tears flow out of my eyes uncontrollably. 

I did something stupid. I’ve really gotten myself into trouble. Like, life-altering, never-going-back trouble. 

“Oh, honey.” I can barely hear Rebecca’s mom whispering as the tears pour and pour. 

Out of the corner of my eye, despite the world going blurry, I can see it, clear as day. All three of the tests are positive. 

This is real. This is happening. 

And I have no idea what to do. 


End file.
